Lover asunder: The Words Said
by Tsuppi
Summary: complete! I looked at him: his eyes were open but unseeing. Worry had just started to settle in when he spoke; I hardly heard it when my name slipped from his mouth. I didn't know what to expect. DxL
1. Haven

_Quick A/N: Welcome to Lover Asunder, _mes amies_! Just a note: asunder means '__widely separated,'__ as taken from the dictionary, or, as taken from the top of my head, 'torn apart.' I hope this will help your understanding of the story, which I thank you for reading, despite itself. ^^;;_

Allons-y_.... We begin at the Ark Library, continuing from that very special section in the latter part of _Diamond of Darkhold's_ last chapter. You should know what I am talking about. Thanks._

**ONE**

**Haven**

I couldn't help smiling as he gingerly maneuvered the squares and rectangles of fibre with the tips of his fingers, history book lain aside. Inwardly, I laughed at my idea to give him the letter Fleet had stepped on and torn while on our way back to town from delivering parcels. Keeping my giggles inaudible was impossible, and when Doon looked up from the ruined letter—once addressed to the librarian Edward Pocket—grinning ear to ear, one broke through. He turned to me and asked,

"Haven't we done this before?"

We chuckled. Before I could give him a response ("oh, _maybe_…"), we caught each other's eye, and the tickle that had been in my stomach ever since I'd had the idea of presenting the letter to Doon seemed to melt completely. It was something I was not prepared for. Lightly I gasped. It poured its warmth over, down to my toes. It was wax from a freshly-lit candle. It was downing a cup of hot cider. It was warm bathwater splashing against my legs. It was—something I have never once felt before. My cheeks were red, his eyes silver, and the pieces of paper scattered still. A second passed, shockingly pristine before it faded away. And I snapped out of my trance to find my heart galloping like a wild stag, heat radiating from the depths of my belly, and my breath shuddering.

What?

_Doon?_

"Lina?" he half-whispered, no longer smiling but with his eyebrows familiarly furrowed.

"Ha—I'm sorry, I have to go run now, and, huh, it's too bad that Ed—er, Al, um—Edward wasn't here. Heh—oh, well!"

"Lina…!" And I ran, Doon half-standing from his seat.

_Slam._

*

The door was hard and cold against my back as I slid down, my knees having pitifully given out just as I had closed the Ark's entrance. With my ears full of the sound of my heart pounding, I shot my hand to my forehead. Warm. Then to my stomach. Cold. But it certainly didn't feel that way. There was probably just as much going on _there_ as inside my head:

'What kind of goodbye was that? How stupid could I have been? I need to go back and— No. Face him again? … Was I even there when we—just—So _much_ from something like that! I—I felt…. But it's _Doon! Doon Harrow._ My friend…my brother…Not— _That. _Whatever that was—'

My breathing was calmer. I swallowed.

'_That…'_

And all at once I imagined his eyes again, the sound of his laughter once more, the feeling that I still yearned his touch, that I—

'_Oh, gosh!'_

*

I didn't notice it when Doon reluctantly opened the door looking for me. I had leapt from the entrance, grabbed Fleet, and flown around the corner. He wouldn't find me.

In fact, it wasn't a conscious effort, but it turned out that he wouldn't find me for the longest time. Just after that week passed, a group of Emberites came to me as I groomed Fleet. When they told me, quite tersely, what they wanted to do, I almost pulled the hair off Fleet's mane, forgetting gentleness in my shock. I stopped stroking the pinebranch brush before echoing them,

"Make… a new…Messenger troupe?"

"Yes, just like the old days!" a blonde short-haired girl hardly older than myself chimed.

"You know, it's only been about five years," an intense-looking man, probably less than 30 years old, said quietly but emphatically. "It would be very different, but we want to keep going fast."

"We realize it's a lot of work," a lady with braided brown hair gently reasoned, "but we might as well—with the construction corps making new pens and sheds—you know, start getting horses and stables together."

"But—you, um…"

"Aless," smiled the brunette.

"Aless—"

"Oh, and I'm Senna," jumped in the young girl, before elbowing the man.

"Yorm," he muttered.

"Right. Aless, Yorm, Senna—" I looked at each one as I addressed them— "you know I've been doing this by myself so long now—"

Senna cried:

"Exactly!"

Explained Aless:

"You would have seniority, and we'd do whatever we could to help."

"Actually," Yorm joined in excitedly, "I've learned how to ride from the family that's taken me in." At this, Senna turned to him,

"Huh? A Sparks family?

"Yes—Mam… She—couldn't manage the Egress… and the scramble."

"Oh.

"Anyway! Whoever doesn't, you know, know how to ride can just sit on the saddle with you or maybe help with your route-planning for a while!"

In the pause that occurred after Senna's speech, I went it over in my head. I had long lamented being barred from the fairly large village of Caron in the north because of the distance and the possibility of bandits. (Sure, I could arm myself, but I would never; maybe a man like Yorm could.) Their citizens had to deal with knowing next to nothing of the diamonds and Doon's… and _the diamonds'_ newest capabilities, which were promptly reported upon discovery.

The reach could definitely go farther with more than just one rider, that was for sure.

"So?" Aless asked, looking subtly expectant. Smiling, I said,

"We should talk about it further, yes."

"Are you busy now?" inquired Yorm.

"No, not really. I have to ride for late afternoon, but…. Come on, we'll sit at my house. It's a bit small—still dusty because it's new, but there are some seats in there…."

With that said, off I went, along with a half a dozen other people, some past Messengers, but others interested Sparkspeople. And when we go, how we go. The next few months were a head-throbbing flurry of activities: construction, trading, lessons, mapping, and tending to injuries of horses and humans alike, as well as planning, assigning, meeting and talking. In two months, just as the Month of Burning was ending, Caron was hardly far-flung for us anymore. We had a respectable amount of horses, though not enough for all who wanted to ride. Those who could rode well. Yorm actually proved so capable a rider I let him do part of my regular letter deliveries, taking over for me every few days. But on those days, I hardly rested. No, not until the Falling was winding down did I get a single real day of rest. I was beginning to feel my fatigue as a flood of town representatives came to visit Sparks and include their location on our maps. Either at my home or some other Messenger's, the stables, the road or eating hastily at the Doctor's home, which was next-door to mine, the duties never stopped following me around.

I was excited. Sometimes, sending off a Sparkian Messenger for the first time, I even felt enthralled at our enterprise. Still, I no longer experienced unaccompanied the wind in my face as Fleet and I raced down a sparse landscape. It was something precious, however small, to me. I missed it. Sometimes the Doctor or Mrs. Murdo would give me a meaningful look. Still, they would end up saying nothing, although one night after supper, Torren slapped the back of my head and said,

"—Have you been listening? …You haven't forgotten to _sleep_, have you?

With a new group of Messengers and only myself as the guide, rather than a dusty book written by the Builders, I think I might have. Really!

One day, I had just finished visiting the home of Captain Fleery, a former Messenger leader, who had expressed an interest in joining when, turning onto the River Road with the water on one side and a large forest-bordered field on the other, I saw two figures in the distance. They were coming from the direction of the Pioneer. I stopped, shielded my eyes from the midday sun and squinted. I could see the kid closest, with a pole resting on his shoulders which had at each end a large bucket of—was it berries? They looked like the red ones that grew near the former hotel. I blinked and squinted again. Who was it behind the kid? They were running up to him and, from the looks of their gestures, trying to take the buckets. As they neared, with the boy finally conceding to take the buckets down and hand one to the person—a man—to carry by hand, I finally recognized who that man was. I bit my tongue to keep from squeaking the name. I wheeled around and continued walking, much faster now, towards the village's core. The 'D—' was still at the tip of my tongue. More importantly, I could still see his grey eyes notice mine looking in his direction, right before I turned. The only thing I could think was,

'_He's not _that_._'

As I continued to half-jog, my mind began rationalizing,

'That's right. Maybe I've felt _that _way, but differently. Not just for some_one_, but for _every_one from Ember… And the Sparkspeople that help us now. The people whose letters, with their their feelings inside, I deliver…. I have felt strongly about these people, so many times….'

A soft wind blew, carrying that wind-chime sounds of children screaming and laughing a short distance away. The river continued to surge nearby. I shut my eyes.

'Yes, I love them all… I'd do anything for every single one of them.'

Smiling to myself, my thoughts settled, for the moment unperturbed about any question of the real way I felt love. I stopped my stride, breathing in the humid air, and then the memory of those moments in the library hit. Their strong feelings did not fit at all.

That hollow, aching feeling rose to my chest. I bit my lip.

'I couldn't… _can't_ want…'

"…For myself…."

"_What _for yourself?"

"_Uhh!?_"

The grip I had on my chest right over my heart was very, very strong, but no match for the _throb _when I turned and saw Doon Harrow, grinning like an idiot with the sun obscured behind him. The light enflamed a circle of his hair like some sort of halo. I blinked rapidly, still clutching my chest. Suddenly, I felt as if my blood had thickened, felt it coursing like sludge as my heart desperately fought to pump it through. Then he stopped forward, and, unfocused as my eyes had been, his light attacked me. Quickly I shielded my face.

View obstructed, I greeted calmly enough,

"Hello."

"Hello!" he laughed, "This would be the first time I can hear how you are without getting it from a Messenger or some other gossip. What's going on with you, Lina? You, um—" he said as he turned to me, seeing only my sun-blocking hand, "must be pretty tired nowadays, huh?"

"Yes, I am!"

"I'm lucky to have seen you."

"You really are," I laughed half-heartedly. I felt my face redden with surprising speed, though my hand was still raised to the hot light. He continued,

"I'm lucky because…with the harvest celebration the Mayors announced coming up in three days, I was wondering if you'd like to join in."

"Of course I would! I'm not _that _busy, D—" He cut me short:

"Would you join me?"

By this point, shading myself did not seem to have helped, and the heat started to cause a ringing in my ears. My head was recoling from another wave of heat when, unsure of what he had just asked, I groped for an answer,

"Sure—I'd love to join…."

Doon didn't say anything for the next while. I could feel the weight of my arm suddenly grow. Still I continued to hold up the dead branch that was my arm. The man next to me then spoke of something about the baker and berries for pies, and the celebration. While he talked all about some other boy with berries that was trailing behind us quietly, another particularly hot wave of the sun overcame me. Sweat trickled down my nose and my neck, and its cooling sensation washed through my body, then gave way to an intense heat. The flames rose up and licked me from within. Then—

I felt them explode.

* * *

"Lina!"

I had just, at the sight of her keeling over, yelped her name when her thin body crashed onto the ground. The grip I had on the bucket disappeared, and I took her and started pulling her up. It was easy to see that she was unconscious. Still sitting Lina up, I saw Jon sprinting to me:

"What happened?"

"I—I don't know—I have to take her to the Doctors father in-town." I needed to carry her body. I positioned my hands and stood up as fast as I could. "Take the berries."

"Don't you need help?"

I was already dashing, her weight scarily light in my arms. I turned,

"Don't worry!"

*

'God.'

My face burned from shame. So that was why she was so quiet after I had asked her! To think—

"To think I was wondering _if_ _I was being too forward_…." I felt the growl low in my throat. I shot forward, my anger burning as fuel for my legs. But only halfway through, my arms felt overcharged. Luckily, people that noticed me made way, even in the thickest part of the Plaza. As I passed the fountain, I heard a sharp, high cry,

"_Lina!?_"

Puffing, I turned around to see who was at my heels:

"Lizzie?"

"_Doon, what's wrong with her?_"

"She…collapsed… at the road—by the river. We were just talking—"

Minutes passed before Lizzie yelled,

"I hope you were!"

I was just about to cry "What!?"—but I nearly crashed into a gate—that of the Doctors' home. Lizzie Bisco shrieked again when I stomped myself to a short stop.

"Torren!" I yelled.

I didn't need to catch his attention. He was already throwing aside his improvised Caspar-modeled whip. As he let us in, he asked me,

"Finally, she gave in?"

As I set her down on one of the patients' beds in their western wing, I couldn't help asking, still breathing hard,

"What do you mean?

"I dunno about you, but people, the Doctors, too, have noticed her running around like a chicken with its—"

"Yes, I've heard." The boy stared at me. "What was that look for!?" I turned towards Lizzie and saw the same stare. "What, you too?"

Right before Torren could, with his mouth opened, explain why they were looking at me as if it was my doing that Lina was in her state, the doctor skittered in,

"Oh—I heard from the neighbour that the girl—Oh! No, take her to the other bed, the windows there will cool her. Torren, I need cold water."

"Is from the bath alright?"

"Yes."

And the helper sped off.

"Ms. Bisco, help me, please, to take her layers off—"

"Right!"

Off they went. There was only the sound of my breath as I struggled to catch it. I watched the two women undo Lina's tight bodice, but did not really take in anything around me. The minutes ticked by. Then, Doctor Hester's head shot up:

"Thank you, Mr. Harrow," she said. She thanked me with an air of finality, as if she didn't need me anymore, like…

I couldn't do anything else for her.

"Please! Let me help!"

Right then, Torren shoved me aside roughly, a basin between the crook of his arm and his side, rag in hand:

"Oh, what should you have to do with it—"

The acid spilled from the turmoil I felt:

"_I have to do with a lot!_"

"Doon," said the redhead with her voice raised, "calm down—get out of the room and _sit_." I exhaled. She continued, "Torren, thanks for the water. Now we need guys out. _Out._"

And so I had to force myself to sit. Crashing onto a heap of blankets in front of their fireplace, the feeling of uselessness made me grit my teeth. I could hardly see, I hated that Lizzie so much.

"You know, you shouldn't begrudge her for anything," a kind voice to my left said. It was Mrs. Murdo, pushing the young Poppy onto the sofa to sit with Torren and wait. Then she hurried into the next room over. I could hear her and her senior Dr. Hester mumble to each other. Quickly but quietly I walked closer to the threshold. I could hear much better, catching the words "stress," "immunity," "weather change," and "fever." Minute by minute, the time passed, and I could only think how little I could hear Lina inhaling or exhaling.

'_I'm walking back in_.'

Instead, Lizzie jostled me just as I turned, with Lina in her arms. She ran to the back of the house. I followed, like everyone else did. We came to a partition in the corner of their home's backyard where baths were taken and stood around the drum of water as Lizzie upended bucket after bucket on Lina's head in an attempt to cool her. Poppy's whimpered and unanswered questions sounded faint while I watched, hardly breathing.

After an eternity of this, the Doctor took her hand off Lina's forehead and pronounced her fever to be—if marginally—better.

As Lizzie got up to move her elsewhere, I noticed from the corner of my eye how the Doctors glanced at each other. Shortly, Mrs. Murdo had turned to me, and her hands rested on my shoulders (I realized that they were shaking):

"Doon, thank you for bringing her here. You must have overheard us. She will need some rest, a few days while we monitor her."

"I could stay and—"

"When we see fit, she can be moved to rest in bed at her home. Perhaps then, Doon, you could take it upon yourself to nurse her." Her stare was dead serious.

"But…."

"She'll be alright," she said, grave face unchanged save for her raised eyebrows. "Believe me, the worst is over so far."

I heard myself sigh. I said,

"_So far_."

The walk home was long, and the sky grew darker every minute. I tried to focus on something, anything else but what had passed, and I managed to stare at the setting sun as I shuffled my feet. It sank slowly, its remaining light bleeding over the hills, until the darkness siphoned the redness off, away into nothing.

*

In a week, I found myself at Lina's door, Mrs. Murdo handing me some damp, cool rags as she gave instructions for the first time that I would watch her, although she disagreed with my staying for the night. Lina lay inside across one of her sofas beside the fire, in the corner of her rectangular adobe-walled home. I would have nothing _but_ the chance to sit besides Lina as she slept, finally in some sort of peace. Her fever had gone down. Thinking of this piece of news lifted my spirits just as it had that morning when I first heard it. The news had been given to me at my workshop by a Messenger that the Doctors had sent. I closed my eyes, smiling faintly at the new lightness I felt in my chest, and entered.

* * *

Slowly my eyes opened. It was not the first time today. Last time, for a few seconds, I had seen a brown blur in front of me. It had told me that I had been out for a week and how I needed to rest. I had obeyed.

Now I felt refreshed. I was still holding onto the dregs of a beautiful dream my hazy mind had had as I slept. It was misty and grey, like the silvery fog you see once in a while when you find yourself in the fields just before sunrise at spring. I had felt comfort, as I still did now. I realized it was not so much the mist and the vague shapes I watched swirling behind it, as the feeling pervading the whole dream that I was anything but alone in the haze. The dream had ended just as I was about to grasp someone's hand….

Those last sensations, carried over from my dream, ebbed away, and the blurs of my vision became focused and defined. There was the window. It was light outside. The air was completely still in my one-roomed home (I seemed to have ended up in the house after a week), although sometimes I could feel coolness slide over my skin as the wind rustled the leaves outside. Arms set on the sofa and angled just so, I slowly raised my upper body. The fire was out, embers still glowing at the bottom of the dark hearth, and looking around the room, my eyes fell on a figure a few metres away. The person was laying on their side on the second sofa stationed just beyond my coffee table. Their chest rose and fell gently up and down. I could see, faintly in the light, that their eyes were shut.

Doon?

Was I still dreaming?

* * *

_Another A/N: Boy, would it cook anyone's goose to know how long this story's been sitting in my head. I apologize for anyone that thinks it's quite implausible and, frankly, OOC; I would be happy to hear any and all criticisms and take them into account. But this storyline's been in the works for a long time, with all its teenage angst and weird indentation. I'm afraid it can only go farther and weirder from here.__ Bear with me, and tell me your thoughts._

_Thanks for reading! You don't know how much this means to me. _Arigato~

P.S.:_ for anyone in the know, I made references to _Fullmetal Alchemist_ and the _Lonely Island_ (a creator)._

* * *


	2. Self

_A/N [part 1]: for this chapter, I employed the so-called technique _Keep it Simple, Silly_…_

_

* * *

_

**TWO**

**Self**

It could not have been a dream.

I was sure of it now. There was hardly 4 inches between our noses. After slowly getting up and making my way to the sofa, I had knelt in front of his face and surveyed it. I don't know for how long; I didn't tire of it. I also don't necessarily know what had brought me to stand, wiggle into the space left on his sofa, and lay my body parallel to his. I think maybe I had let my mind evaporate for the week I was out. (That would explain the dream I had.) So here he was in front of me: Doon Harrow sleeping lightly— although he twitched every now and then. Like a little kid he had his two hands underneath his left ear. Realizing this, I mimed him and smiled. I laid like this for a while, and we breathed in time, thanks to some effort on my part. Then something strange began to happen the second I closed my eyes. I felt something tickling my ear.

Doon's mouth twitched.

"D—Doon—!" I sat up in record time, and he followed, guffawing. Meanwhile, my face warmed, not a surprise given how embarrassed I felt at being caught in the act. It was beginning to get to me how much he was laughing, so I asked curtly,

"Why are you here?" My curiosity made me ask it, but I think he took it badly. His laugh stopped abruptly (I noticed how the silence was blaring), and as he pondered, at the corner of my ear and on my shoulder, I could feel his breath. Warm. My own breath caught. Was I tingling?

I murmured,

"I'm sorry—I was just wondering…."

"I'm here because I'm here."

What a thing to say! I turned around to shoot him a look, only to find him having done the same. The giggles rose in me like bubbles in a potfull of water on the stove. My heart squeezed uncomfortably, but I didn't dislike it. I smiled as I asked him,

"Because you're here?"

His reply: "Yes."

"For how long?"

"Last night was my second time caring for you. During the day Mrs. Murdo checks on you regularly."

"Oh."

"In case you were wondering, I was just resting my eyes. Breakfast is at the table. You wouldn't believe how much fruit people offered," he scoffed, "I guess word spread quickly."

"I guess." Silence.

"Are you alright, Lina?"

"Yes, Doon. Thank you."

He half-smiled, and meanwhile, nostalgia continued to apply its pressure on my heart.

I found myself in exactly the same position as before except this time, Doon, no longer feigning sleep, had his eyes opened with his elbow on the soft fabric and his head resting on a closed fist. My lungs filled and emptied slowly, my focus beginning to rest on my breathing. I closed my eyes and imagined his aura and mine glowing in the darkness. A feeling of peace was trickling in, so that the words we spoke began to feel light. They floated gracefully in the air in front of me:

"How are you feeling?"

"…Better. You must have worried about me…."

"It—No."

"Did you… go to the harvest celebration?"

"No." Bitterness touched his tone.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"What?" I laughed as I asked it.

"I don't think you understood but… um—"

"What?"

"God…"

"Come on."

"I asked you—" he huffed, "if you would come with me."

Silence. Suddenly, I burst out laughing.

"I'm sorry, but—that's ridiculous!"

"I know…. I wasn't feeling the greatest when the Doctors were nursing you."

"I—can imagine." With my glee tamed, I felt a smear of discomfort.

Slowly he explained what the Doctors had to him: how all my worries had accumulated at just the wrong time of year, overtaxing my body. I listened intently, resolved never to let it happen again. But I was contented more than anything.

Since when has his voice been so soothing?

"Well, I'm quite alright now, thank you," I smiled. My eyes still had not opened.

"I can see that."

"And you must know why." He waited. Without thinking, I went on,

"I feel completely…renewed. Like I wasn't sick at all—"

"It has to get worse before it gets better," he interjected. I opened my eyes before I continued speaking:

"Not at all…. " I spoke softly, "Doon was here. You were with me." I smiled lightly again and whispered,

"I'm alright now…. I'm alright."

Then his eyes, which had been listlessly drawn elsewhere in the room, shifted towards me. I noticed their silver gleam. The memory of the library came to mind, though I shook it off. I was sure that it wasn't the time. I looked at him: his eyes were open but unseeing. Worry had just started to settle in when he spoke; I hardly heard it when my name slipped from his mouth.

"Hmm?" I said. I didn't know what to expect. Then he leaned towards me. Further, further, further, until a hair separated me from Doon Harrow.

He stopped. I felt his warmth around me, and drank it in. My eyes closed, and I made my decision. The gap between us was closed, and we began to kiss.

The slipping, sliding and the tasting.

It was as though Doon and I were somewhere in the skies, revelling in each other—hands clasped.

I kissed him—longer, harder. He responded.

His presence! So strong around me. It wrapped itself round and round and round, until we were beginning to run out of breath, and after a few moments, we slowed. Separated, breathed.

It slowed down, but I couldn't find my head then, not for the life of me. It was sweet still.

All I had was his moist, soft, supple warmth.

No, it was sweeter, all the more. With every soft, rolling pressure, every small tilt of my head and his own that followed, then the way our mouths matched wholly, I could feel him supporting me, just as much as I did him. Nurturing, caressing, embracing.

How could I have gone so long without this?

This is all I need. Him.

It took a while to be able to breathe normally for us both. When we broke away from each other, he and I had nearly given a humongous wheeze, and now were forced to think solely on our breathing. Slowly, I felt my mind returning. As it frantically—nearly dying of both excitement and embarrassment—searched through the feelings that made up that encounter, my eyes lifted. I looked at his. His face was such that he looked completelyastonished: equal parts pleased, overwhelmed, bewildered, and plain taken aback. I probably didn't look much better! Even if my heart rate was getting close to normal, I still felt as if the wind had been knocked out of me. The corners of our mouths slowly lifted higher and higher. Then we started chuckling. In no time, we both were unable to control our laughter. I was overjoyed; I laughed, my heart full, the happiness spilling from it as I shook.

I did it before I even realized it was happening: I was crying. The tears rolled out without much ado, their source somewhere deep inside of me. It was like a dam had been broken in my chest, and it burned all the way through to the bridge of my nose. When he caught it, Doon looked startled. The look faded, and my eyelids lowered over my blurred vision as he linked our foreheads. As we laid together, I kept sniffling and sobbing and hiccoughing till I pulled all the salty moisture out. In time, the sound and the feel of his breathing had calmed me down. He shifted back slightly to wipe a stray tear. My mouth opened, and I started, "Doon—" He leaned back in towards my face, sure that it was now dry, and waited.

My voice was horribly broken and rose and fell erratically as I told him,

"Doon Harrow... I will spend the rest of my years...by your side. Doon, I want…I—I am going to live the rest of my life with y-you."

I didn't think clearly after that. We both were laughing when I felt myself lose control again. Again he waited before he wiped the wetness away. I couldn't help it.

And then when he told me that he loved me, I cried all over again.

* * *

_A/N [part 2]: …_Keep It Simple, Silly_…which is acronym'd as KISS. _;)

_Enjoyed? Good. You didn't? Tell me why and review!_

_I wrote up part of this chapter extremely randomly one night and later summarized everything from Chapter One and the first part of this chapter after that writing spasm. I edited it a few times and posted it up on my _deviantART_. The title 'Self' is derived from that submission. In addition, the title of Chapter One is taken from something Doon says in that installment. Not that you wanted to know, but in case you did, well, now, huzzah._

_As always, thank you so much for reading L.A. [_lover asunder_]. _Hasta luego….


	3. Able

**THREE**

**Able**

I didn't know why I did it, why I leaned in, and it was this realization that made me stop rather completely. My thoughts had pulled outside of myself, and I found myself wondering, what's Lina thinking now? She must think I—I'm pushing myself on her. Why don't I back off? Lean back! Just lean—

And then she hooked right onto my upper lip.

The sensation of her flesh just grazing my teeth muted the thoughts in an instant. I shifted and did the same as she, all my mind focused on the contours of her one lip…. I moved onto her lower lip— Pecked the corners of her mouth— Simply brushed my closed mouth with hers…. And repeated, giddy.

But if I thought I was giddy then, it was nothing in comparison to the pleasant surprise when Lina pressed her softness _hard_ against mine, and stayed, stayed, until she withdrew and I knew the lack and wanted more, not to miss a single inch, no not even, a single millimeter of her lips—_god her lips_.

When my chest started burning, it was a reminder to breathe—to stop. I took heed of it hastily and, for a moment, grudgingly. My eyes flicked open. Lina's eyelids fluttered. They soon revealed her dark eyes, shining. I smiled, and then—

I took as deep a breath as I could.

What, exactly, I did after that escapes me, but I know thing: I thought I was fulfilled then, even as she cried from the happiness that was overwhelming her as surely as it was me. But I didn't know happiness until the moment came that she told me what she wanted was myself. Me being with her. Her with me. And I am sure I didn't know it would hurt my heart that way to be so happy; I shook so badly that I started to chortle then outright laugh. Lina joined me. I wasn't surprised when she started to cry once more, and waited it out.

Lina had just told me that if nothing else, she needed this one thing for herself: staying close. So simple and so great.

I want it, too.

I made sure she had had a good cry before telling her in reply, "I love you, too."

The speed at which her sob came was frightening. But I just held her tighter. She had me now.

*

When one sets themselves down to think on it, I guess it can be said that it was all quite predetermined—somewhat like we had set ourselves up for it. Playmates in youth, partners-in-crime as pubescents (following a time of muteness, the residual of a childish grudge), strongly-bonded friends later: Now I loved her as a woman, and she loved me as a man. Predetermined. Perfect, almost breathtakingly so—just like we were drops of water sliding around an intricate, interconnected web. It was now just recently that we had turned a corner of that complex network.

One should understand how inevitable it all was, with the help of hindsight, and it is well within most anyone's capabilities to explain just why I should find this connection to her, or why I love her: Her innate curiosity, an inquisitiveness we share… Her compassion and wish to see a brighter future on the horizon, so similar to mine… Her kindly behaviour that makes everyone find her amiable, her graceful deference to all the demands made of her by those she loves (as well as those by those she doesn't really approve of), and, as far as I can see, an almost impulsive dissembling to hide any discontent whatsoever. For everyone's sake but hers.

The way she shook as I held her….

I was angry and relieved at the same time. She needed a friend so badly— but I could be one, someone that would be there for her. I could, despite myself, support this wonderful girl.

And her wonders are many. She thinks herself plain—I've heard it myself—but Lina Mayfleet is an attractive girl (the way her black mussed hair frames her head so messily but perfectly is often enough to encourage in a male passerby a second glance), but I say _girl_ and not woman for a reason. Standing in a gaggle of females, friends her same age, give or take a year, she easily looks the very youngest. Yes, she is of an average height (a head shorter than me), has somewhat broader shoulders than normal and long springy legs, but in the way of curves, she is flat. And there is no other word for it.

So when she takes my hand with a firm grip, smiles wide, squints her twinkling eyes that way, and turns a slight shade of red, it's all the more surprising that her beauty jumps out at me. Plus, the way she moves when she sprints— I never admit it, but it makes me sigh, and when she handles Fleet at full gallop, that sigh shudders.

It makes me wonder how I earned my place in her heart, as well as thank my lucky stars for it. Who am I, anyway? A boy who liked to take apart wall outlets and alarm clocks, bug enthusiast, the man who managed by the skin of his inexperienced, chattering teeth to pull off making a sort of inventor's workshop in a little corner of town.

I love her, and when _I _set myself down to think about it, there arises no verification that it _isn't_ amazing that we ended up like this. But I'd have it no other way.

* * *

It was two months, then, since Doon and I had first kissed, and no one knew. Nobody knew that his stubborn decision to keep watch over me as I recovered from my fever had borne some fruit, that he returned in the night once in a while to repeat those events. Not a one.

I didn't know how to feel about the whole business. How was I to? I ran around more breathless and frenetic than ever as the days passed. Had word gotten around…. I can't even imagine it. We were simply happy with the few moments we reserved for each other, because aside from that, the things life threw at us were many and all in all, really difficult.

So it was a relief to find myself, miraculously, in a lull in the Messenger business (it was between summer and winter, and most people are frantic in their preparations for near-hibernation). The time I now acquired was very welcome indeed, and I took some of that time to go into the quiet of our newly-built but ramshackle stables. I took in the sight of the sturdy splintered wood and dry hay. That unmistakable smell was present, and potent enough for a set of horse stables.

Some minutes passed before it became apparent that I was actually in the presence of my old friend Maddy; she was quietly stroking a foal that had just been born the week before. She looked up from the mess of curls that was her hair and gave her customary nod. Her cheekbones were their usual strong sharpness, and her nose was straight as always, almost as ramrod straight as Maddy's back was used to being. I approached the bandana-clad Roamer and the young horse, saying,

"She's beautiful, isn't she?"

"I didn't know they could have such fine coats," she said as she stroked the creature gently.

"Well, the mother was kind of haggard!" The crystal-clear image of the tangled mane and the countless spots of dirt and mud that were always on the horse came to mind.

Maddy steeped in her thoughts silently for a while, her light eyes intently focused on empty space, before stating,

"It is such a shame her mother had to die when she was born. And if I'm correct… the nomad who sold the mother when she was still pregnant—he says the father already died in an accident?"

"No." I paused, and sighed unconsciously, before stating, "he had fallen ill."

"I see," said Maddy quietly, "It is wonderful, then, that all the other horses have taken to her." The horse neighed somewhat weakly. I turned to Maddy and asked,

"Do we have a name for her yet?" She replied,

"No one's come up with anything that suits the little one…" so I inquired,

"I suppose it would be all right—wouldn't it?—if I could make a name for it."

"What name would that be?"

"Ferrelyn. It was my grandmother's…."

We sat in a few minutes' silence before Maddy gently started to ask about my grandmother. I explained to her slowly how she had always been a big part of the family, doting on my father so because he had lost his mother—my paternal grandmother—years before I was born; how she lost her memory, slowly but surely; and the night that I lost her.

"I remember it was hard, even when Mrs. Murdo took us in…. It was a blow to me." Her hand was on my shoulder. "Only she knew, and—Doon Harrow. Because I told him. _Right in the middle of our hunt for an exit out of Ember_. And he hugged me. Well… to be fair, I was bawling…."

My laugh was cut short by the look on Maddy's face when I glanced her way: a little startled, bemused.

"Interesting…." She huffed. I asked her just what she was on about, and then she came out with it: she explained that ever since sometime in spring, any mention of that boy had driven me to leave or else speak about something else. Maddy added, "You sort of stopped, froze, and I remember seeing your eyes roll to the right and stay, until you were in the clear…." At this point I think my face was white. "So after the first month or so we learned not to talk about him…at, er, all…. Are you alright?"

"Yes, yes, of course, it's just…." I stopped to think. "_So that's why my friends gave me those weird looks… _Especially when we would be close to his shop—"

"A good deal of peop—"

"I SEE!" I heard Maddy yelp and voice her surprise as I slapped my face. I whirled on her, "Maddy, have you ever loved?"

"Y-yes, er, I have."

"So you know about denial?"

"I believe… I do…."

"_Ahh._

"So that was what I was doing."

Maddy smiled. "Yes, Lina, it was."

Mindful of the tacit agreement of mine and Doon's not to let anything be explicitly known, I left the stables very shortly afterwards to meet with Lizzie and Chet Noam—friends as yet unsuspecting—but not before I asked Maddy to keep shut.

"I'm hanged if I don't honour the request," she swore. I hugged the sage, tough, but softie Roamer, and dashed away.

* * *

On the very same day that, as she told me, Maddy had given her the revelation, I was off running into the sunset looking frantically for my father. Mrs. Murdo had just forced a dinner invitation on me and Father—'if he would be willing for you and him to join us for today'—and I needed to drag him to the Doctors' residence.

After a long half-hour of asking acquaintances where they'd just seen my father and finding him to not be where they had indicated, finally I saw him sitting by the river by chance as I checked the Pioneer's back lot. Knowing that the large meal would be ready anytime soon, I didn't even explain to my father why I was yanking him by his good hand to the town until we got to the River Road.

"You see, I had to go see about some tourniquet devices we were going to experiment with at the shop, and I was talking to Mrs. Murdo on the way out, and she told me that they were preparing a bigger dinner than usual on account of the holiday and all, so of course she invited me; she didn't even give me a chance to refuse, I had to run to drop off the equipment at the shop before coming to get you and hustle—after all, I think they were nearly done when I came in, so it should already be getting cold! …The food, that is."

"Son—I haven't seen you so impatient since you were small…"

Without thinking, I replied,

"Well, _she_'ll be there. She told me she's next door drawing maps and that I should pick her up when I absolutely have to take her to the Doctors'—"

"I see."

"Yes?"

"Nothing, nothing."

We were nearing the vicinity of Lina's and the Doctors' homes. Just then, Mrs. Murdo appeared on the road, apron still on, calling us in. Needing to talk business with her, Father left me to extract Lina from her route-planning and take her outside, and went to speak to the woman with broth splashed on her front. I, for one, had to go talk to Lina.

* * *

For the whole remainder of the day, I was thinking about it, about how I had behaved for months after the library incident. Surely I had tipped countless people off. But the weirdest thing was that I don't recall any of it. Like it had come as natural as breathing, the compulsion to deny that he figured in my life at all. Now, I knew—

_Of course_ Doon figures in my life!

In fact, if I had not had the more-than-pleasure of meeting him, working with him, falling (haphazardly) for him, my life wouldn't really resemble itself at all. First was whether myself and less than 300 others would be stuck in darkness and deep trenches, waiting to die or not. Then there was being able to cope with Grandma's passing and even with the terrible Assignment I had gotten that last day of school. And not seeing his mug every day would be very different indeed. I mean…

If I couldn't sit down some nights when it gets hard and just hold his hand…

I felt my mind's thoughts darken. _What then_?

The gloom had just started to really settle in when, with his uncanny timing, he flew through the threshold of my home, where I had been sitting and waiting. My contemplations had brought me to this sad point, but when Doon was there, reaching out for me, telling me to come with him (next door, of course), it didn't matter: I had him now.

* * *

_A/N: It's probably not on good authority at all, but according to this crime scene-type show I watched a long time ago, when you remember things, you look to your right; when you make stuff up (like, for an alibi), you end up looking to your left. Interesting, right?_

_R&R…_

Postscript

**M**addy. "A good deal of peop—"

**A**uthor. …is what Maddy said, but even I forget what she was supposed to say in that sentence.

**M**. Well, that's not fair.

**A**. It's lost in the sands of time.

**M**. Hm.

**A**. And you know what else? Your whole love story that Lina inquired about?

**M**. Yes….

**A**. Not gonna clarify that either.

**M**. Ever?

**A**. Nope.

**M**. But what about the CHILDREN.

**A**. !!!

**A**. You had kids?

**M**. Ah but wouldn't you like to know.


	4. React

A/N: I lost sleep over this one. Hope you enjoy. If you do, and especially if you don't, please explain in a review. 8D

* * *

**FOUR**

**React**

Two months ago, when I came into Lina's house to tend to her receding fever, the last person I'd been expecting to see was Aless Pope. Yet there she was, kneeling as she took care of Lina. The thin-haired brunette looked an edge frustrated as she applied a cool damp cloth to her patient's forehead. I approached the woman, and announced my role for the night. She explained that she'd come to Lina's home to check on her along with the doctor but wanted to linger.

Presently she was rising up from her position, clapping her hands together as if to say _I'm done here_. I'd seen Aless with Lina often, seeming to fulfill an assistant's role. I asked her about her work with Lina, and she told me I was right. She did all the small things (fetching _this_ saddle, planning _that_ meeting, instructing any new recruits) that Lina would normally have done but hardly had time to anymore with her extra destinations. At this point she was leaning against the wall, saying,

"I do a lot. But Lina does a lot, too," she paused, "how can I say this…? She's driven. Do you agree, Doon?" I nodded my answer. "It's because she understands. She _knows_ the values of her messages. There's a lot invested in the letters, the parcels, the packages, just the very words. It's embarrassing, but she said to me once that 'a person's feelings are all put into a message like a timeless…' I'm not sure, 'a timeless jewel.' "

A smile came to my mouth as I imagined her saying that. It was typical. I offered,

"She loves what she does."

"Yes. Her messages are very important to her. I've found out that much in the months so far." I saw the frustration burn clearer in her eyes as she continued, "Lina stretches herself _so_ far for the packages. To get them where they need to be, she gives her all, and actually, she doesn't even care if that drains her."

"Hence her situation at the moment," I humoured. But then Aless looked up at me from where she stood, and her look conveyed the gravity of the problem I knew too well.

"Doon, the messages don't need her to be hurt to be safe and sound. They can be sent with _help _now. She doesn't have to be like she's been for so long…."

"And is this coming from just you, Aless the assistant?" I was grinning.

"Us. From us to her." She nodded once as if her mission was done and slipped out the door.

Alone now, my eyes locked onto the girl behind me, resting still beneath the sheets. I closed my eyes, answered Lina's friend, who was no longer there,

"I got it."

*

While my father and Lina's guardian were speaking, I was inside the Mayfleet home, aware of the slightly-cooling air as the sun continued its descent into the night. The air was as quiet and still as Ember's was, and in a matter of hours, it would be just as dark. The streets were deserted at this time, with the work of the day done and dinners to be eaten. We had to get supper. I tried reaching vainly for Lina as I explained,

"We should go; they've been expecting us for a while… and I'm famished. You're not still working on your routes are you?" Seeing no map in front of Lina where she sat and receiving no response, I continued, "I thought you'd be busy until the last minute, but… I guess business isn't too brisk. Lina?"

She simply stared expressionless at me. I cleared my throat.

"Are you—?" I began to ask, but from my right, I heard Father's and Mrs. Murdo's footsteps. They were coming close to the open doorway. I turned towards the sound, now not only worried for Lina but embarrassed at keeping my dad waiting. At the exact same moment I was turning, I saw that Lina had finally at that moment begun to move out of her seat.

Father entered, inquiring for us, and called, "Are you two ready?" And then he began to mention that the others were probably already waiting, but he was interrupted by Lina.

She had rammed into me and quite taken me by surprise. So it took a moment for me to realize it:

She was kissing me.

Passionately.

Three things happened in the space of three seconds:

That part of Father's and Mrs. Murdo's skeletons that held up their jawbones unscrewed, or quite possibly exploded instantly, because their mouths automatically dropped to the ground.

The next second, Mrs. Murdo turned round, beginning to glow bright red as she vainly tried to preoccupy herself with her apron.

And the following second, I realized my situation. At which point I began to panic.

_*_

By the time I managed to pull the girl off me, Lina and I had been wrestling—her, resolutely keeping her lips on mine as they moved in completely new ways, and me, trying to roll, tilt, and sidestep out of it frantically (but for a few seconds at a time, a little half-heartedly)—for a full minute. She had also been giggling slightly and rather loudly.

And once she stopped, a few moments had to pass for her to notice that Mrs. Murdo and my father had been there for it. All of it. Blood, which had collected in a pulsing rush to my head, beat incessantly in my ears.

Silence pervaded the whole room, like the calm after a storm. The tension seemed to be solid, floating in the air between us. I nervously looked about. In order of redness, I noted, was: Mrs. Murdo, Lina (she'd dashed to hide behind me), myself, and Father, who was white as a sheet.

Not good. My mind ran through the reactions my father could possibly make, calculating what I could do as self-defense. Would he rage at me, drag me home, or walk away? Then again, considering he's Loris Harrow, I think Father has it in him to faint. If that was the case—

Then Mrs. Murdo at long last peeked out from behind her shaking fingers and asked feebly,

"Is—is it over—?"

Father turned to the middle-aged woman and, despite the poor woman being frozen as a statue, rotated her back towards us. I blinked.

"Maureen," Father said, "it's only beginning."

It was then that my knees started to go all weak. Oh, man.

He nodded, flicked his hand, and walked out. In moments, he and I were on the side of the road outside Lina's place. Together we stood on the deserted street. I had never been so afraid of my father in my life. I flinched inwardly when he opened his mouth and started,

"Doon," he said (with _that _tone, too), "I thought at first that it was nothing. But obviously it isn't. I was noticing a change in your behaviour that made my son look as if he had _something_ he couldn't tell me." Then he turned to me, making full eye contact: "Now you'll be telling. I want to be told just what happened, Doon, and just what _will_." He ended his speech with a sigh.

Father waited as I stared at my feet and ruminated. I began,

"Before I say anything, I'm so so—"

"Save it, son."

I gulped. This wasn't going to be easy.

* * *

Her full name was Maureen Murdo, and that was what most everybody called her. But Poppy, _unlike_ most everybody, had come up with a nickname for her: Meen, for Maureen. Torren and I had been following her lead for almost five years. So mostly I stopped calling her by her surname.

Right now looked like a time to start doing so again.

Instead of sitting down, Meen stayed standing. She looked like she was in sore need of a seat, even a bed. I was about to offer until I was stopped by the thought that the effort of even moving from her spot was probably too difficult for her at the moment, because of what I had just done in front of her. Wonderful.

I spoke first: "I—I'm—You must… It must be—" I stuttered before spluttering, "Mrs. Murdo, please, do you want to talk?"

She breathed in deeply and after a pause, she nodded faintly. We were both still flushed, but the two of us were starting to work out the confusion anyway. With her exhale, the questioning launched forward.

"Tell me, Lina…. Is this the first time… kissing … for you two?"

"No. It's probably…." I blinked rapidly, trying to come up with a number, then, hit with the absurdity of it, just said, "Far from it…."

"You and Doon…. For how long, Lina?"

"Not long," I answered, though my voice was getting shakier, "a few weeks." She gave me a pointed stare. "Alright, probably two months."

* * *

"It was just after the harvest celebration, when Lina was recovering from her fever. She—she was doing really bad, so I had to worry. She got better, and at that point…" my voice grew smaller as I continued explaining, "we got together."

A cold wind breezed through. Silence from my father pressed me to tell more:

"We meet, and we talk"—a wintry cold bluster bit at my already-red face—"or just sit and r-relax for a while. S-sometimes…" I don't believe it, but I'm forced to say, "yeah, I've kissed her, a… few… times. But we only meet every now and then."

I paused. He said nothing.

My feelings came together in my mind as thoughts, and the words bubbled up, "It's not just that we have a lot in common, Father." I clenched my fist and stared at the white of my knuckles. "I think her spirit… It's so amazing. With her, it's like—I can try more; I could be a better person. You know?" I finally looked up at Father, and my mood, which had lifted, crashed down. His look was grave.

Finally, Father did something, but my relief mixed with anxiety: he stepped forward until we were nose to nose and stared down at me. My dry throat rasped as I gulped.

"We fell in love this spring," I said to my still-silent father, "if you really care to know…."

Just saying those words made my heart beat even faster. _Fell in love._

"Father?" He kept staring, searching my face. "You must be angry. That's why I want to apologize. We kept it from you, and it was wrong. I know. But she decided she didn't want to flaunt anything, and I thought her life was getting hectic enough, so I agreed, and of course, who was I to make it harder for her, and—"

And then Father's face scrunched together. He was…

Smiling?

My brow had started to furrow when I got what was probably the tightest hug of my life. Father was still smiling as he asked sweetly,

"Spring? Why, son, that's probably the most beautiful time to fall in love! You really, really have grown!" He laughed.

I hugged him back as he sighed forlornly. Alright. _Now_, I figure, I can tell him my intention to marry.

* * *

The next question Meen asked: "Since when?"

"Since…what?" I asked back, my confused voice now cracking.

"Since when _did you know?_"

I thought about it. "I think it all started one day during the Flowering. There was… nothing, until that day." I thought to myself, '_But maybe it was building for years, and it was that time— That day…. Something changed._' It looked like Meen was contemplating my answer, just like I was.

"Why Harrow?" Meen asked boldly. She sighed when I could only give her silence. "It's Doon. Of course…why ask? It's not so hard to figure out. Alright, then. Lina, I hate to, but I have to ask…."

"Yes?"

"Have—What—" she choked, redness meanwhile returning to her face, "how far have you and—and…?"

"You mean, what have we—?"

"Yes."

Although very red, to the point that I think my brain was cooking, I went through what we were used to doing.

"—Honest, Mee—Mrs. Murdo. I learned today I was denying it for months before _anything _happened, and now, it's almost as if nothing happened at all. We're going…but slowly."

She looked relieved but cautious as she echoed, "But… slowly?"

"Yes, Mrs. Murdo."

I sighed. The tension left Meen's face, and her eyebrows lifted.

"Why not tell anyone?" she asked curiously.

"I already told you. Things needed to look like nothing…nothing happened at all." My face burned, and I looked away. The shame for keeping this secret was catching up to me. "Otherwise… I think people will be disappointed in me. I don't really _know_ why, but… this is what I want. "

"Oh, Lina." I couldn't bear to look at the one who had become somewhat like a mother to me and Poppy. My chest shook from the pounding of my heart. In time Meen's voice perked up, and she asked, "So what do you plan to do together?"

I knew what I didn't plan to do. "I'll never leave him, Mrs. Murdo. And this place, you know it's too big for just me…."

"So…I take it that you love him?"

"I do, Meen."

When I said it, I finally looked up from the ground to see Meen's face bathed in the warm colours of the sunset. She was smiling at me. She took my hand, hers dry, worn and wrinkled from hard work. For a flash, my mind returned to the one rainy night when she told me all about the strained marriage she'd had to her late, woman-loving husband. I put my own hand over hers, a smile forming on my mouth, too. It was a long time ago, but Meen had been deeply unhappy when the man she loved stopped loving her over others; yet today, I could see that despite the regret, she was hopeful— Hopeful for me.

"Meen…."

"Please be happy," she whispered.

* * *

"Wait—Father."

He released me from his grasp. I took a step backward. However apprehensive I was, I had already determined that now was the time.

"Doon?"

"Father."

"_Doon_," he mimicked.

"Father!" I cried to suppress a snort, "you're not making this easier for me."

Finally he quieted for me. I cleared my throat:

"Lina… I—"

I had only begun my sentence, but right then, Father's face lit up with a look of understanding.

"Yes, son?"

Suddenly, saying it felt easier with his voice so soft and his hands securely on my shoulders. So I did:

"I _love_ her, Father, and I'll be damned if I _don't_ marry her."

There. I've got it off my shoulders. But how will he take it?

To my considerable surprise, he whooped,

"Oh, thank goodness! I thought it was either you were engaged or she was pregnant!"

The considerable amount of blood that had pooled in my cheeks drained away.

I knew how it worked. Books had told me before my own father did. But did he _really_ just _say_ that?

"_Pregnant?_" I flushed, "don't be _silly_, Father."

"I'm not being silly at all," he laughed, which followed a pause. He went on, "You know, I never thought it right to tell you, son, but you were born out of wedlock." He smiled nostalgically as he said this. "But I loved your mother."

"Huh?"

Father was getting unusually verbose on a subject he only very rarely spoke of. I'd only heard the bare essentials of my mother. Her name—Lanny—her appearance, her passionate personality, and the fatal illness she and many other Emberites caught when I was just one. Now, the fact was surfacing: they hadn't married when they had me.

Were there other things I wasn't privy to?

"And?" I asked. This was making my curiosity pique.

"And…?"

" 'I loved your mother,' _and_…? Father, I'd like—"

"We should head inside," Father interrupted as he pushed me inside. His large hand—the good one—slapped at my back, all but throttling me to Lina's home, where she and Mrs. Murdo were talking.

Oh, right. Lina.

It looked like I was going to have to make my inquiries another time.

* * *

It's supposed to be monumental, but the conversation between the two parties, made up by me and Meen and Doon and Loris, who had again gotten together, was in reality really short.

"So, is it safe to say that you and Lina were engaged?" asked Loris.

"No, never officially—" said Doon in reply.

"We had no intention of _not_ staying together," I answered him. I looked to Doon, and he nodded.

"Well, then, I suppose it's official," stated Meen, "you are engaged now."

She'd said it. The pleasure, excitement, relief, and love overwhelmed me as I looked at the faces of my family. It looked like I wasn't the only one smiling. In fact, Meen was trying to wipe off some wetness from the corner of her eye when she said,

"You really did give me a shock, Lina. I hadn't the _faintest_…."

"Really? I kind of knew," Loris answered coolly.

"Did you, now?"

"Oh, yes, it's the little things, you see. Aside from the fact that my son here," and Loris indicated Doon, who was starting to burn red, "kept smiling whenever there was any mention of either the Doctors or the Messengers, he started asking me how my day was less and less; plus, he rarely looked me in the eye anymore. It kind of stung, you know…." Doon only punched his father's arm lightly, a smile on his flushed face.

"But," Meen voiced, "you looked just as surprised at first!"

"How could I not? You don't walk into people's homes and expect them to be there, 'relaxing' away—" At this point, Doon mumbled,

"I said that just 'cause I didn't want to tell you everything, you know." Loris laughed loudly,

"Well, Lina? Can you be more of a man than Doon and _tell me_…. Is my son any good?" The one thing that always delighted and vexed me about Doon's father was how open and free he always was, so it was with mixed feelings that I heard him ask me about…Doon's kissing skills. I looked desperately at Meen, but her finger was set on her mouth and her eyebrow was cocked, showing her burning curiosity.

Doon and I looked at each other. Then we automatically steered our eyes to the ground, just letting our reddening faces tell the story. They laughed, heartily, and soon we couldn't stop ourselves from laughing, too.

A minute later, someone walked in, and they came at the right time, to see the four of us hugging tightly. I heard their faint gasp of confusion, which they followed by clearing their throat embarrassedly. Then the person, whoever it was, firmly said, matter-of-fact,

"If you should be interested to know, Torren is already taking your servings for himself."

***

* * *

_And so it is that one story ends right when another's is about to told._

_Thanks for reading thus far! Please tell me any and all insignificant thoughts that popped into your head as you read, because even the nastiest one will be quite welcomed. Oh yes, I just invited flames. God help me._

_Again, _THANK YOU_, and hopefully (or sadly, depending on your current sentiments) you'll see more from me. I'd like to say that it largely depends on feedback from this first taste, but actually I've started the structure for another arc or three._

_Drop me a message anytime, I'm happy to strike up a good conversation between fellow fans and fan_shippers_._

Final word goes to **Jeanne DuPrau** who: _a) _is awesome for writing (and debuting with!) _CoE_, and the resultant series, _b)_ owns all of these characters, not myself and _c)_ apparently decided to confuse readers and spell Lina's name like she did even though it's pronounced _Line_-AH. Yes, good _sir_s and _ma'am_s, that's how it really is; DuPrau said so at a book signing. And that means it's the word of God.

All hail....


	5. A little extra Sampling

_A/N #1: A little extra._

**ZERO**

**Sampling**

Those two months were ours. He had stolen me; no one knew anything about it; I myself could feel only happiness. In that time, we shared just some of our nights together, and for short—but sweet—durations only. We shared company, we shared everything that we had in us to tell, and we shared lips like they were on loan to the other for part of the evening.

I laughed when I realized that, when Loris had been interrogating poor Doon, his son could only state that "we relax sometimes." Because, well—

Sure, we relax.

*

My mind had been taken hostage by his eyes. I had marveled at their metallic glint as the grey bored into me and as we two secretly sat on my down canapé, the dusk settling into darkness. There had been, before this, a comfortable silence. Very cosy, very safe, yet at the same time exhilarating and vexing. Somehow Doon made me feel all these things just by being next to me. But I was at ease with him. Like everything that was dark and muddy and blurred in my life suddenly turned to white, clean and clear, whenever he came to me. My soul was at rest. Or rather, it _had_ been, until I had looked at those marvelous rings of cold metal blinking at me.

I grazed the skin of his forearms as I lifted my hands. They snaked past the solidness of shoulders to rest on his collarbones. I heard the _hiss_ of the breath that was rushing in and out of my slightly-flared nostrils. My eyes were unblinking, my blood, running cold. Faintly I could sense the buoyant feeling typical of a dizzy spell, the shaking of my fingers, and the jittery flutter of wings in my stomach. But my mind was all gone—taken into his custody.

And shortly his lips seemed to be trying their best to save my mind from its perilous situation, but it only managed to kidnap it elsewhere.

He had dug in like the day had been especially difficult. I felt his flesh running over my mouth as far as he could go, like he was hungry and wanted to swallow me up. I let him, at first. But then a hand (I recognized dumbly that it seemed to be mine) traced the back of his neck and rested loosely on the base of his skull. Fingers played with hairs. He stopped abruptly, broke for air, and returned to something more gentle: he started to kiss me like he was trying to memorize the form of my lips… taking a second to wonder at this bump, focusing on that slight depression, and taking an especially long time to observe the farthest left corner where he could taste its salience. _So_ Doon. He always loved to kiss me in this gentle way, and of course I almost expect it. Yet despite that, it manages to make the walls feel like excellent places to bounce against. It's true.

I feel the flood of excitement in my heart when he ponderously scans these lips.

A surge of affection finally forced me into motion.

* * *

When we sat together, my mind was as level as the surface of an untouched lake. Then when she put her hands against me, however lightly, it was disturbed. I could feel a lightness in my cranium as the blood flowed, surged, and raged.

I was fully aware, at least, of the sound of Lina's breathing. The feel of the pads of her fingers just below my neck. _The pressure of her shaking fingers_—I blinked. My mind was trying to float up and away, like the red heat in my cheeks was a small fire and my brain, a hot air balloon.

Vaguely I thought that it was hardly a good thing for me to lose my head. And then another thought entered my sky-bound mind:

Staying on the ground is overrated.

So I leaned forward. My head tilted. My lips opened. And I kissed her.

But then she kissed back, and with Lina, there are stories to be told in a single kiss.

* * *

My eyes were closed as we sat kissing. (Although who ever kisses with their eyes peeled open anyway?) I couldn't see, but I could smell. My still somewhat-new sofa with its woodsy smell, potent enough when you really try to notice.

I couldn't see, but I could hear. Doon's foot shifting slightly on the fabric.

I couldn't see, but I could taste. Loveliness.

I couldn't see, but I could feel. Our movements… and the expansive space of my home that was around me, that I knew was there, but that I couldn't quite map in the darkness. The dark of emptiness. The light of our lips playing.

I can feel it all.

My Indian sit is released as I get to my knees, changing our leveling. I rise up, and I know his head is tilting, and I am kissed from below, with the air from his nose rising warmly. My lungs are almost bursting. We part, breathe, and begin again. I stretch forward, and I know his spine is bending back, and I kiss him from above, with my muscles screaming in delight. I roll slightly, and I know it's hard for him not to let my mouth go, and we kiss sideways. Our bodies lie parallel.

Then after all that we sat back up again and went back to the selfsame position we had been in before. A click was almost audible in my mind when I realized this. I stopped and backed off slightly. I took a breath. A time passed, and then he received my kiss again.

I rise up again. I stretch forward again. I roll slightly again. We kiss again.

And we repeated it another time. And another. Like it was something we were rehearsing. At one point, between my eyebrows was pressure and on my cheeks was a pinching… I was smiling incredulously at what we were doing.

…What _were_ we doing?

Doon seemed to have asked himself the same thing because he began to laugh aloud. My smile widened. It took a few gasps, but he managed to really laugh, like someone had just told a raunchy joke. In no time, we were a shaking heap, sending our laughter out the windows of my house.

*

Yes, we relax.

_A/N #2: _It's not quite an epilogue, not exactly a prelude, and definitely not a chapter. It's a little sampling.

Tell me whether you liked! –Or didn't!

**[EDIT:] I've very much moved on from "Lover asunder." I urge all y'alls to check out my newest effort, "Flowering," seeing as it's already half-done and then some--plus, it's basically a more light-hearted take on the same premise. Boy loves girl, girl doesn't know if she loves boy. Hopefully improvements have come my way.**

_Postscript_

**L**oris. Did I not ask Lina earlier just how good my son is at that 'relaxation' stuff?

**A**uthor. Yes you did. Weird, but you did.

**L. **They of course didn't end up saying anything.

**A. **You don't expect a self-respecting teenager to discuss their makeouts.

**L. **But you can expect a fanfic author to, can't y—

**A. **Ah, shut it.

**A. **Basically, the story that Loon (Doon/Lina)'s red faces told was something along these lines. It's not TMI is it?

**L. **Kind of! But… that's interesting. So, that time, Lina blushed because she knew she was good…

**A. **And Doon flushed 'cause he knew he couldn't stack up. [Laughs]

**L. **Come, now, he's a Harrow. We're known for our passion!

**A. **Your son described you as being like a glass of water in _CoE_.

**L. **…

**L. **Ah, shut it.


End file.
